


The Vision

by esotericspell



Series: Inheritance, Season One [1]
Category: Charmed (TV 1998)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esotericspell/pseuds/esotericspell
Summary: Henry Jr didn't ask for premonitions, and this was one he desperately wished he could send back.
Series: Inheritance, Season One [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877485
Kudos: 2





	The Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick prologue for my next-gen fic, Inheritance. A mood setter, if you will.

_His own eyes stared back at him through a pane of glass so obscured by dust and grime only a tiny portion of his battered face made it through. Dark shadows caused his exhausted features to droop even further, making him look like he’d just limped from a warzone. But he wasn’t here to be a mirror. Vanity wasn’t a concern; this was a matter of death._

_He looked to the left, where dark shapes emerged from a shroud of fog. His swift eyes counted them all, all the way to sixteen, and if he had a heart surely it would have stalled. Indistinct lines soon became legs, arms, shoulders, and head. Heads that stared forward, shoulders that bore no hint of tiredness, arms that snapped steel rods and legs that marched to an undetectable, irregular beat._

_The crow watched the figures approach too, conditioned enough by human contact to only offer a single squawk that he couldn’t hear. The figures marched on until a sudden flash of silver light ripped through the shadows._

_A domed barrier slid into place as three dozen crystals around the building lit up simultaneously. Veils of silver and gold shimmered in a broad arc, offering sanctuary to those within._

_The attackers paused in an uneven line in front of the barrier. The one in the middle, a facsimile of a surfer bro, opened his mouth too wide and emitted a sound Henry was glad he couldn’t hear. The figure jerked out his hand and when skin met barrier, the entire dome rumbled from the impact. Half a dozen cracks spiderwebbed out from the hand and the light began to dim._

_The crow took off, flapping its wings in annoyance at the display, but instead of fleeing to safety, the carrion bird sought an abandoned pole at the other end of the building. Then, the crow waited for prey._

_This vantage offered a long look inside through a wide window washed by ocean spray, to where his family faced the front set of barred doors. Most looked like they’d already been through hell. Hems and sleeves were torn and jagged, hair wild and unkempt, and dust trailed up pant legs. Still, their stances were firm, and pairs and trios clumped together to hold hands._

_Then, the doors burst open with a force that shattered the beams to inch sized pieces. Henry’s vision suctioned from the crow and pinged around like a football on shaky ground. His eyes seemed to move independent of time, almost as if everyone else was frozen, but they moved as normal. One moment we stared through the glass, and the next he watched surefooted legs march through splinters._

_He saw Wyatt, front and center, encircled by five, none of whom grinned as maliciously as the Surfer. Wyatt and Surfer spoke words Henry couldn’t hear, two kings meeting from opposite sides of a battlefield, and whatever was said caused Wyatt to take a step to the left, directly in front of his cousin. Two swaths of energy lashed out, effervescent from Surfer and orange fire from Wyatt. Where waves met, the area rumbled in agony._

_He saw Peyton duck behind the rusted skeleton of a conveyor belt. She clung to the motor and sucked in harsh breaths through her nose. One, as a streak of fire darted overhead. Two, as she clutched the motor cap in desperation, practically merging her body into the metal. Three, as one of the attackers caught the tail end of her golden-brown hair swing beyond the motor._

_He saw Grace, arms out, building a jagged wall of ice in front of his own body. He saw ice crystals coat her eyebrows, so furrowed in concentration no part of her face moved even as hoarfrost crept in. Her body flinched in surprise and she twisted to the side so that ice coated the floor, where one of the invaders wavered on suddenly unsteady ground.  
He saw Chris burrow himself into the sleek brown hair of a woman. Then, the positions were switched and Chris held her close with one hand. The other clutched hers, down at her waist. “We’ll get through this together,” his mouth moved, “We’ll kill them all.”_

_He saw Portia flick her fingers. The hands grasping for her shrugged off the magic and found their mark around her throat. Portia’s legs struggled in the air. She kicked and kicked as her assailant squeezed. In a jerk, her legs floundered, motionless. The attacker smirked and Portia’s body dropped to the floor._

_He saw Astrid scream. Fire spiraled from her palm, trying to choke the attacker the way he choked Portia. Then, as fire stripped away flesh, Astrid orbed to Portia’s side, coming to a low squat the same time Grace slid into position on the other side. They joined their hands, two and two, over Portia’s throat and their hands glowed._

_He saw Pru, faced backwards. He saw nameless grief on her face morph into an icy stillness. Blood dripped from her collar and smeared up her throat like long, skeletal fingermarks. She stiffened her spine, ground her heels into the floor like they might anchor her to the earth, and made her decision._

_He saw Melinda, face reddening as the seconds passed. Then, red turned to purple and blue. Every inch of her body struggled and lashed out, but nothing moved, as if her skin had turned to cement. Fury settled in her eyes, and in an explosive force, had her cousin bent at the waist, clutching at the blood on her stomach._

_And then, he saw nothing._

Henry’s eyelids slammed open and the tears gathering on the corners of his eyes slipped free. Cold, icy terror clawed up his spine and clenched a sob out of his throat. As the images flashed through his mind, he leaned over the side of his bed and vomited. 

He didn’t fall asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> Not that I have any proof, but I did write the first draft of this before I read ASOIAF. I swear. Crows are totally different from Ravens.


End file.
